


And Baby Makes...Muffins

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Series: He Was My Almost [7]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dalton Academy, Dalton Sebastian Smythe, Drabble, Drama, Friends With Benefits, Hidden Feelings, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance, Skank Kurt Hummel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is unclear about Sebastian's feelings for him, but a lame Home Ec project unexpectedly spurns an argument that brings deeper feelings to light.</p><p>In this one-shot, Kurt and Sebastian find that they can't keep going on the way they do without the feelings that they've been keeping down finally getting in the way. Inspired by a Klaine one-shot I saw where Kurt and Blaine are given a fake baby to take care of in class. I kind of liked the idea of Dalton having one lame class that no one, not even Sebastian, can get out of, and this assignment being the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kurt waits out in the hall, peeking in at the doorway of the classroom, and watches as their Home Ec teacher, Mr. Heckler – a relic of Home Ec teachers past and an ex-Dalton boy himself – writes the day’s notes on the blackboard. Kurt holds his breath and bides his time, choosing just the right moment to make his move. He hasn’t served a single detention since he’s been at Dalton, and he’ll be damned if he gets one in Home Ec. When Mr. Heckler turns his back to the door to consult a textbook on the podium beside him, Kurt sneaks in behind his back. He shuffles between the desks, stepping over book bags on his way to the back of the room. He throws an evil eye at one boy, who looks like he might open his mouth and give Kurt up, before finally occupying the empty seat beside Sebastian.

“Do you always come to this class late?” Sebastian hisses, not looking up from the notes he seems uncharacteristically dedicated to copying down.

“Well, seeing as we haven’t so much as made a decent soufflé or a foie gras in this class, I don’t see a reason why I should be on time,” Kurt says in a hushed voice, dropping his backpack on the floor between his feet and digging through it for his notebook. “Besides, Mr. Heckler’s so frickin’ nearsighted, I doubt he even knows I’m in this class.”

At the front of the classroom, Mr. Heckler bends down close to his book, removing his glasses to read a line of fine print, and proving Kurt’s point.

“The class is half over,” Sebastian says dryly. “If you were enjoying yourself so damn much, why even show the fuck up at all?”

Kurt takes out his pen, turns to a clean sheet of paper, and starts copying down notes, preferring to read over Sebastian’s arm than to get them from the board.

“I didn’t spend the last twenty minutes sucking some guy off, if that’s what you’re pissed at,” Kurt says when Sebastian turns his body to block Kurt’s view. “I was talking to my dad. I just…lost track of time.”

Sebastian huffs, but relaxes his shoulders slightly, turning back a bit so Kurt can see his page again.

“Yeah, well, today would have been a good day to be on time,” Sebastian whispers, returning to his note taking.

“Yeah?” Kurt chuckles. “Why? Did someone let a chicken loose in class again?”

“ _You_ did that,” Sebastian points out.

“No, _Puck_ did that,” Kurt says through a chuckle. “I just watched.”

“Whatever,” Sebastian says, not laughing with him.

“So, what’s the big deal?” Kurt asks. He doesn’t particularly care that Sebastian’s miffed at him for being late, except it never bothered Sebastian before. It was actually kind of a private joke between them. Kurt’s curious why that’s changed. “When did you start feeling that attendance is mandatory?”

Sebastian gestures with his pen to a bag of flour on his desk. Kurt sees it and snickers. He’s about to ask Sebastian why he would bring a bag of flour to class with him when he notices more bags of flour on different desks around the room. The boys in class, all sitting in pairs, each have a 5 pound bag of Gold Medal flour placed between them.

“Ooo. So, are we finally going to make something today?” Kurt asks. “A cake? Cookies? Or is Dalton having an Open House, and we need these babies for show?”

“Amazingly, you’re right about something for once,” Sebastian says.

“Which thing?”

“Babies.”

Kurt raises a brow.

“We’re going to make _baby_ cakes?” he asks. “That seems…weird. Oh, wait! Is it baby cupcakes? I love baby…”

“No, you limp noodle,” Sebastian grumbles, turning his page to the next clean sheet. “ _They’re_ babies.”

Kurt’s raised eyebrow shoots straight up to his hairline. “How do you make babies with… _oh no_.”

“Oh _yes_.”

Kurt looks at the bag of flour – their bouncing, baby bag of flour – and snorts. “I ask you, why do they make us do shit like this in an all boys’ school? I mean, wasn’t last month’s production of _Romeo and Juliet_ torture enough?” When their English teacher, Mr. Blumqvist, assigned the play in their A. P. Literature class, Kurt wasn’t sure if Dalton Academy was more progressive than he gave it credit for, or just plain obtuse. Regardless of motive, Avery Adams – Dalton Academy’s resident hopeful for the Olympic Boxing Team, Heavy Weight Division - got chosen to portray Juliet, a performance that scarred Kurt for life.

“It’s apparently mandatory,” Sebastian explains. “Set by the state.”

“But, we’re at a _private_ school,” Kurt argues. His voice rises sharply, and Mr. Heckler shushes him. “Doesn’t the administration get to decide on the curriculum _regardless_ of what the state says? Isn’t that why my dad pays obscene amounts of money to send me here?”

“Yeah, well then I guess the dean let this assignment slip through because he thought it would be funny,” Sebastian says. “It’s supposed to be a creative, hands-on way to teach budgeting, cooperation, life skills, and decision making.”

Kurt gapes at Sebastian and shakes his head. “Man, you really drank the Kool-Aid on this one, didn’t you?”

“Mr. Heckler said it at the beginning of the lecture,” Sebastian says. “You would have _known_ that if you were here.”

“Suuuuuure,” Kurt teases. “I know you’re just _dying_ to marry me and have my babies.” Kurt elbows Sebastian’s arm, luring him into teasing back, but he doesn’t bite.

“ _Anyway_ ” – Sebastian rolls his eyes – “they’re forcing us to ascribe to traditional family roles. Since you decided to play hooky, I get to choose. _You’re_ going to be the mom, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Kurt says, “because I’m smarter, I dress better, I sing better, and I’m all around just better at everything than you.”

“Like _you_ dress better,” Sebastian mumbles, reaching inside his blazer pocket and pulling out his iPhone. “In your dreams…okay, I’ve already set our budget, so the next thing we’re supposed to do is find a house in that range.” Sebastian pulls up a browser window, muttering as he does a search. “Let’s look at the real estate listings in Westerville…”

Kurt’s eyes open wide.

“Uh, not that I’m debating the merits of Westerville vs. Lima, because I _hate_ Lima like the plague, but why do _you_ get to decide where we live?”

“Since our budget basically consists of _my_ trust fund,” Sebastian says with extreme emphasis, “ _I_ choose the house.”

“And what about me?” Kurt asks, offended that Sebastian doesn’t deem him worthy to help pick out their imaginary house.

“Don’t worry,” Sebastian says. “I made sure to factor in the one-hundred-twenty-three dollars and fourteen cents _you’re_ bringing to the party.”

Kurt scowls, deciding to overlook the fact the Sebastian knows exactly how much money he has in his wallet, down to the cent. “So, _I_ don’t get a say?”

“No,” Sebastian replies, finding something that interests him and jotting down the details in his notebook.

Kurt reaches out and closes the book on Sebastian’s hand.

“ _No_?” Kurt repeats, seriously. “What do you mean _no_?”

“It’s simple,” Sebastian says, grabbing Kurt’s wrist and moving his hand away so he can continue writing. “Two letters, indicating that something is the exact opposite of a thing specified.”

“If we’re raising this fake flour baby together, then why doesn’t _my_ opinion matter?” Kurt asks. He hears the words come out of his mouth and winces. He can’t take them back. But he’s not as mad about this asinine assignment as he seems. There’s really a whole lot of something else on his mind.

“Because it doesn’t,” Sebastian says. “There. 1.3 acres. Four bedrooms, three and a half baths, two car garage, swimming pool, close to a school. Done. Now we have to find a car.”

“No,” Kurt says. “Not done. I don’t want to live in Westerville. I want to live in New York.”

“Yeah, well, so do I,” Sebastian says, exiting out of the first browser window and opening another, “but do you think it’s the best place to raise a baby? Especially one made of flour. I mean, I’ve seen you read fanfiction. You know how many bakeries there are in New York.”

Sebastian smirks. Another jab. Another deflection. A person would straight up have to be Indiana Jones to avoid the pitfalls of trying to have a serious conversation with Sebastian Smythe.

“Yes, I think it’s the perfect place to raise a baby,” Kurt replies, his voice softening but still holding its bitter edge. “And you’ve never told me that before.”

“Never told you _what_ before?” Sebastian opens to a new page in his notebook and continues writing, finishing the bulk of the assignment himself.

“That you want to live in New York.”

“Yes, I have,” Sebastian counters without looking up. “You’re just so busy being angsty and emo that you don’t listen.”

“Fuck you, Bas,” Kurt snaps, but only because he has nothing more compelling to say. He’d stopped listening, searching his brain for every conversation he could remember to see if Sebastian’s right. Did Sebastian really tell him that he wants to move to New York? When would they have even had that conversation? Sebastian doesn’t talk about personal stuff like his plans for the future. When in hell would the subject have even come up?

Kurt’s about to come up with a smug retort, but a memory hits him like a hammer to the skull.

_Oh fuck!_

He _did_ mention it. Kurt remembers now. They were sitting on Sebastian’s bed, sharing a smoke. Sebastian wouldn’t stop ribbing Kurt over his plans to audition for NYADA. Somewhere between joking about Kurt’s voice breaking glass and seeing him dance in tights, Sebastian said he was thinking of applying to NYU. Then he said something about them sharing an apartment together, and how it would turn into the PornHub version of _Friends_. But he said it offhandedly, made it sound like a joke. Kurt didn’t take him seriously, and now…

_Shit!_

Not only is Sebastian right, Kurt’s kind of a jerk.

“Original,” Sebastian says, “and by the way, no, because if we hadn’t been fucking in the first place, we wouldn’t have ended up in this situation.”

“What situation?” Kurt asks, guilt taking a back seat to his irritation over Sebastian’s blasé attitude toward their relationship _so called_. “The one where you’re always cracking lame jokes so you don’t have to have an honest conversation with me? Where you have no problem at all letting me cry on your shoulder, but you won’t open up about dick to me? Where you hide what you really feel behind half-ass comments and then make me feel like an asshole when I don’t figure out the mystery that – _surprise_ – it wasn’t a half-ass comment at all? The one where you choose to be moody and snarky instead of _maybe_ telling me how you really feel about me?”

Sebastian opens his mouth, but in an unexpected move, says nothing. He stands from his desk. Kurt waits for a comeback, but his words hit home…at least for the four or so boys sitting around them, now gawking at the soap opera of Kurt _and_ Sebastian.

“I meant the _baby_ ,” Sebastian says slowly. “I was _making_ a _joke_.”

Kurt’s mouth goes dry. He hadn’t meant to blurt all that out, especially not where anyone else could hear. He had wanted to talk about it, sure, but in a laid back way – the way that Kurt had started to chip away at Sebastian’s walls - over some green bud, after a blow job, when they were locked away in his room or Sebastian’s room, and the rest of the world didn’t matter.

Except, now the rest of the world might have a clue…if they didn’t already. It’s not like Kurt and Sebastian hid what they did together very well.

They only hid how they felt.

“Yeah…well…jokes are supposed to be _funny_ ,” Kurt stammers, trying to get the upper hand.

“That must be why your face is hilarious,” Sebastian returns coolly, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder and picking up his notebook. He walks around Kurt and heads to the teacher’s desk at the front of the room.

“You know what? Next time I _will_ be on time,” Kurt mumbles, knowing Sebastian is too far out of earshot to hear him. “That way I won’t get stuck with you and have to put up with your man-struating.”

“You didn’t get stuck with him,” Nick says, leaning over from the table next to his. “He picked you as a partner.”

“What?” Kurt turns to the boy next to him, the one smiling dreamily at him as if the fight he witnessed was the most romantic thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah,” Nick’s partner, Jeff, adds from the next seat over. “He was one of the first people to raise his hand.”

Kurt doesn’t want to look stunned, but he is. Sebastian likes to keep their lives separate. On projects like this one, he’d normally ask to work alone, and seeing as he had no problem being difficult with teachers and students alike, most of their professors would let him, just to save the time of arguing, and eventually losing.

For Sebastian to request to be paired with him…well, maybe Sebastian had been closer to admitting his feelings than Kurt gave him credit for.

Or maybe, in his own way, he’d been admitting them all along.

Kurt notices that the two boys to his left haven’t stopped looking at him, and he snarls. “He probably just didn’t want to end up with one of you two nimrods.”

Jeff and Nick share a smile and return to their notebook. Kurt can go ahead and growl excuses at them all he wants. They know that’s not it…and so does Kurt.

Kurt watches Sebastian turn in his notebook and leave, a mixture of anger, confusion, and want turning his stomach when he sees him go.


	2. When Colliding Worlds Collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an annoyed Sebastian storms out of Home Ec and leaves Kurt with their 'bag of flour baby', Kurt runs after him to find out what's wrong. Things come to a head, and they have to decide if they're going to continue this relationship...or end it. (I put this here since it follows right after this one installment.)

“Sebastian! Hey, Sebastian! Hold up!”

Sebastian hears Kurt, but he doesn’t wait for him. He needs some distance. He needs some time to think. He got a five minute head start out of class, leaving Kurt in the dust, though he’s barely doing more than walking at a brisk pace.

“Sebastian!” Kurt calls. “Come on! I want to talk to you.”

Sebastian holds his head higher, makes his strides longer. He wants to stop, he wants to hear what Kurt has to say, and for that reason, he forces himself to keep going.

They can’t have this conversation here – not in the crowded hallway.

A few seconds after Sebastian left Home Ec, Kurt decided to go after him, rather than let him storm grumpily out of class. But Mr. Heckler caught Kurt at the door and asked him for the day’s assignment, telling him he couldn’t leave class until he handed it in. As it turns out, Mr. Heckler actually  _does_  have a vague notion that Kurt’s in his class. Kurt, having caught only the last fifteen minutes of the lecture (and even then, not paying a lick of attention), had to return to his seat to finish the assignment.

Thank heavens for Nick.

Determined to ‘help love along’, as he put it, he let Kurt copy off his paper so that he could catch up with Sebastian. Nick has the neat, bubble-lettered handwriting of a stereotypical sixteen-year-old girl, so it was easy for Kurt to knock the assignment out in under a minute.

“Thanks a bunch, Nick,” Kurt said after he turned in his assignment sheet and went back for his books. “That’s good looking out.”

It wasn’t one of Kurt’s more heartfelt  _thank yous_. In fact, it sounded, to his own ears, like something Puck would say. But it was well received, with Nick nodding and grinning exuberantly, as if Kurt had just told him that he had saved his life. Kurt would have found a way to act more grateful if only Nick hadn’t stared at him like a moony-eyed anime character the entire time.

Kurt raced out of the classroom and caught sight of Sebastian around the bend that leads to the dorms. He was sure Sebastian would wait up for him when he heard him calling his name. He always does. But so far it seems like he’s speeding up.

Kurt hurries down the main corridor, deftly avoiding a sophomore who drops his books in Kurt’s path when the boy trips on his untied shoelace.

“Hey, Smythe! That was uncool leaving me in Home Ec with our unbaked child,” Kurt continues, unfazed by the looks he’s getting from other boys he passes in the hall. Kurt doesn’t care about any of them.

There’s really only one other person at Dalton whose opinion matters to him at all beside his own, and that person won’t stop walking.

Kurt thought his remark would get a laugh from Sebastian. If not, then a flash of Sebastian’s unamused eyes, but Sebastian doesn’t look back, and he doesn’t slow down. Walking several feet apart, they make it to Sebastian’s room without Sebastian saying a single word, which is atypical enough, but his rigid shoulders and back, his tense neck, his clenched jaw - they tell Kurt something is wrong, and Kurt wonders for a second if it has something to do with Kurt mentioning the phone call from his dad. Maybe Sebastian’s dad texted him? The man rarely calls. He’s found it’s more efficient to be a horrible father via text message than it does when he wastes the time to phone. “What’s your deal, Smythe? Why are you acting so weird?”

Sebastian has a comeback queued up for that question, but as he approaches his door and opens his mouth, he realizes he’s too tired and fed up to quip with Kurt about this.

“I’m not acting weird,” Sebastian says.

“Okay,” Kurt says, “if you want to play the semantics game, why are you being a  _jerk_?”

Sebastian starts fighting with his key in the lock, jamming it in where it doesn’t fit comfortably anymore.

“Maybe… _urgh_ …because I don’t… _mmph_ …want to do this anymore,” Sebastian grumbles, fumbling with his lock, which has become sticky over time from the use of Kurt’s questionable counterfeit key. If Kurt had just let Sebastian make him a legit copy when he offered, then maybe he could get into his room on the  _first_  try.

“What do you mean,” Kurt says, slamming a hand against the door and pressing it there, keeping the door flush to the frame so Sebastian can get his lock to function, “you don’t want to  _do this_  anymore?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer, occupied with his locked door, but in Kurt’s mind, he already has.

“You mean, me, right?” Kurt concludes. “You don’t want to do  _me_  anymore, is that it? You want this…this  _whatever_  the fuck we’ve been doing to be over?”

Sebastian sighs, finally turning his key, the worn piece of metal nearly bending in half and the lock clicking over with an unpleasant chunking sound. He knows he should have had the lock replaced a while ago. But if he did, Kurt’s key wouldn’t work…and what if Kurt didn’t want a key to the new lock?

“You’re such a frickin’ idiot, do you know that, Hummel?” Sebastian says, shoving the door open. “Did you come to that conclusion all by yourself? Or did your little friend  _Puck_  help you out?”

“Well, what the hell else do you mean?” Kurt asks, ignoring the derogatory inclusion of his friend into the conversation, knowing Sebastian’s only mentioning Puck to lead the conversation a different way.

Dodge, evasion, and redirection. That’s the Sebastian Smythe playbook for these types of conversations - ones that might be important, that might prove there’s something between them more than snarky remarks, getting high, and fucking.

“I don’t know,” Sebastian says, walking into his room and chucking his book bag to the floor, “but you seem to have it all worked out, so no need for me to explain it to you.”

Kurt shakes his head. He’s not flustered by Sebastian’s attitude. It’s true to who he is. Kurt’s livid that he let himself get drawn in this way. Puck has nothing to do with Kurt’s doubts. Kurt had heard rumors about Sebastian from the day he moved in, about him being a player, about his pranks and his schemes, all of which had been conveniently overlooked by the administration because of his father’s clout, but Kurt chose to ignore them. Kurt had been hoping for a playmate, but he was picky. He wasn’t just looking for a willing piece of ass. He wanted someone who could keep up with him, physically  _and_  intellectually, but who he would be in no danger of falling for. Sebastian was perfect in that capacity – front runner for valedictorian and probably the hottest guy on campus. With his tremendous ego and tragic taste in hairstyles, Kurt didn’t think he could see himself ever liking Sebastian in a romantic way. Kurt was no lover’s fool.

Look where that got him.

“Always with the smart ass remarks,” Kurt snaps back. “I should have known better. I should have kicked you out of my room that first night. I should have stopped this all before I started sneaking around with you.”

“You’re  _finally_  getting it,” Sebastian says with a sarcastic laugh that creeps up Kurt’s back and claws his skin.

Puck  _did_  warn Kurt about the dangers of mixing – religions, races, yearly incomes. He said it was a cruel fact of life that some things just don’t match up, no matter how hard you want them to. Of course, that was after his own break up with his girlfriend, Quinn, who happens to be Christian when Puck is Jewish, and also happens to be from a wealthy family while Puck is the eldest son of divorced parents, himself holding down a job to make ends meet. Kurt knows Puck is jaded, so he wasn’t dumb enough to take his crap to heart.

But he probably should have a little.

“Am I?” Kurt asks, backing away toward the door, unsure if what he’s feeling in his stomach is a need to scream or hurl. “I see. So, I was never good enough for you to date in public, but now I’m not even good enough to fuck behind closed doors anymore, is that it?”

Sebastian sighs. He doesn’t hear everything Kurt says, struggling to find words that meld with the thoughts that he wants to express – thoughts he should have expressed before.

“You’re right,” Sebastian admits with a resolute nod. “You’re absolutely right.”

Kurt’s parrying remark stops on the way to his lips. He knows Sebastian can be cruel, but Kurt never expected him to say it outright like that, not to his face. He thought Sebastian might bullshit him, keep the burnt bridge between them intact enough to cross so he can keep their fuck buddy arrangement going. But no. Not Sebastian Smythe. Even with his reputation for being a conniving asshole, he can still get all the ass he wants. Which makes Kurt no different from any one else at this school, regardless of what he thought was going on behind their locked bedroom doors.

He should have known.

“Yeah, well, fuck you!” Kurt says, turning for the door. “Fuck you to hell!”

“Kurt!” Sebastian grabs Kurt’s right wrist, then his left as his fist comes flying towards Sebastian’s face.

“Fuck you, Sebastian!” Kurt growls, tugging to get his wrists free. “Get off me, you fucking son-of-a…”

“You still don’t get it!” Sebastian says, raising his voice and shaking Kurt to get his attention. When Kurt doesn’t calm down, when he refuses to listen, Sebastian changes tactics. He draws Kurt in, fighting like mad, and holds his hands to his chest. “Maybe I don’t want to hide, Kurt,” he says, pressing his forehead to Kurt’s as best he can without getting butted in the nose. “Maybe…maybe I don’t want this to be a secret. Maybe it would be nice if people knew about us.”

“What about us, exactly?” Kurt asks, eyelids narrowing, wondering if this is one of Sebastian’s schemes. He doesn’t pull them on Kurt anymore, but he does to other people from time to time. He seems to have a scheme specially planned for every student on campus, and some of the teachers, too, devised to get exactly what he wants. It wouldn’t be too big a stretch to pull one over on Kurt. Or are they truly past that now?

“That I like you,” Sebastian says softly. “That I want to be with you. That I want people to know, like that  _Puck_  friend of yours, that you belong with me.”

Kurt looks at Sebastian, still angry, but stunned.

“Well, maybe I want that, too,” Kurt says, fighting to get Sebastian to let him go, but Sebastian doesn’t.

He has no intention of letting him go again.

“You never told me that,” Sebastian says, calmly wrapping an arm around Kurt’s waist.

Kurt relaxes into Sebastian’s hold on him, because no matter how angry Kurt is, this is where he wants to be – in Sebastian’s arms.

“You didn’t ask.”

Sebastian laughs. “When’s the last time I had to  _ask_  before you told me what you wanted?”

“I…I wasn’t going to tell you,” Kurt admits, “because...” Kurt doesn’t want to get emotional, but he’d only recently admitted this to himself, and even then, he didn’t write it down or say it out loud. That way, it didn’t actually exist. It couldn’t exist if the only evidence of it was inside his own head and heart. He didn’t think he’d have to admit it to Sebastian so soon, if ever.

“Because?” Sebastian asks when Kurt’s explanation stalls.

Kurt stares at Sebastian. He shakes his head, lips parted, trying to decide whether or not he wants to let the words out, because once they’re out, he can’t take them back.

“You’re the only thing I want that I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to have,” Kurt says, no longer fighting to be free. “Because I can’t just have you. You have to want me, too.”

“I  _do_  want you,” Sebastian whispers. I…” He starts to say something else, but doesn’t finish, his mouth finding Kurt’s and kissing him as if Kurt might still consider leaving if he doesn’t.

They don’t kiss often, don’t make it a requisite precursor to sex, and when they do, it’s usually raw and dirty – remarkable but otherwise unnecessary. So this - this tenderness that Sebastian’s showing Kurt - is so foreign, it feels like they’re kissing for the first time. When Sebastian starts to pull away, Kurt doesn’t want him to go, and not because his entire body is on fire, aching to be touched, not because his pants have gotten tighter along with his chest, that’s caging a heart beating so fast it’s about to break loose any second. He doesn’t want Sebastian to go because that kiss was the summation of everything that tadpole gay Kurt Hummel forgot he someday wanted, and apparently someday is today.

“Are you serious?” Kurt asks.

Sebastian nods, the strands of Kurt’s lime green bangs tickling his face as he runs the tip of his nose over Kurt’s.

“Yes,” Sebastian says. “I don’t think I’ve been more serious about anything in a while.”

Kurt whispers, “Okay,” and kisses Sebastian again. It’s just a brush, just to make certain that Sebastian means what he’s saying, because those few words have the potential to change everything between them, and Kurt wants that. He needs this not to be a joke.

“So, what do we do now?” Kurt asks.

Sebastian smiles in an instant. “Have sex with me?” he offers.

“You mean, we haven’t been having sex this whole time?” Kurt jokes. “Then what were all the blow jobs and the handies and the…”

“You know what I mean,” Sebastian says, squeezing Kurt tight. “It’s not the same as being inside you, or having you inside me.”

“I know,” Kurt says with a small smile, a touch bashful for the first time that Sebastian’s ever seen. “And I want you like that. I want you  _so_  bad,” Kurt groans, throwing his head back dramatically, “you have  _no_  idea.”

“I know,” Sebastian laughs, pulling at the shoulder of Kurt’s blazer. “So, let’s go. What’s the hold up?”

“Well” – Kurt grabs Sebastian’s hand to stop him from removing his clothes – “It’s just…” Kurt nibbles his lower lip, wondering - if it’s a choice between having sex with Sebastian and this other thing he wants - if he’s picking the wrong thing.

“Just what?”

“There’s something else I want more.”

“Name it,” Sebastian says.

Kurt decides to tell him. He’s already made his hardest confession. What does he have to lose? It can’t be wrong if it’s what he really wants.

Besides, Sebastian said he wants people to know.

Kurt moves out of Sebastian’s embrace, whining as he forces himself out of his arms. He takes Sebastian’s hand and pulls him toward the door. Kurt might very well be moving this party to his room, but the look in his eyes says different, and Sebastian understands.

“Will you do this with me?” Kurt asks.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Kurt says, reaching behind him for the doorknob. “This is what I want.”

“Then let’s go, Hummel,” Sebastian says, following him to the door. “Let’s go make spectacles of ourselves.”

***

On the outskirts of the lacrosse field, a group of underclassmen on the JV team, doing warm-ups, spot Kurt and Sebastian strolling by. The sophomores and juniors stop mid-sprint, judgmental twists forming on their lips as they watch their Varsity co-captain walk hand-in-hand with the boy that same co-captain used to call the ‘green-haired miscreant from a low-class public school’. They whisper and giggle, and Kurt glares them down. Sebastian, knowing he’s mostly the cause of the fuss, raises Kurt’s hand to his mouth and kisses it, making sure everyone looking their way can see.

“So, shall we take another lap around campus?” Sebastian asks, his lips moving up Kurt’s arm. “Or do you think enough people have seen us?”

“I think” - Kurt softens his glare at the boys to look at his boyfriend (?) Kurt doesn’t know if they’re going to go so far as to put a label on this, though it doesn’t matter if they ever do – “we should go back to your room, because if I remember correctly, there was talk about  _having sex_ on the table.”

“Oh, there was definitely talk about having sex on the table,” Sebastian says, pulling Kurt’s arm and bringing him closer until they’re walking with no space between them, “but I think the bed might be more comfortable.”

Kurt laughs and slugs Sebastian lightly on the shoulder. Sebastian doesn’t move an inch away to dodge the hit.

“Oh, just take me back to your room and fuck me, Bas,” Kurt says, not necessarily for other ears to hear, but a few heads snap their way.

“Your wish is my command,” Sebastian says, laughing at the dropped jaws that follow their departure. “So, what should I call you now that we’re  _together_? Snookums? Sweet cheeks? Love muffin?”

Kurt doesn’t look at the obnoxious boy he’s leading in his rush to get back to Sebastian’s room.

“Only if you want to lose a testicle, Smythe.”

Sebastian snickers. “Alright… _Pookie Bear_ ,” he prods with a confident smile on his face. Kurt can come after his testicles all he wants. That doesn’t mean he’s going to get one.

Besides, if he tries, it might put Kurt right where Sebastian wants him.

“Right or left, Sebastian,” Kurt says, just as confidently and picking up the pace, “you get to decide.”


End file.
